


the right time for the waiting

by hooksandheroics



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kaytoo Interrupts Most of the Time, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, some resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11809782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooksandheroics/pseuds/hooksandheroics
Summary: The Galaxy is out to interrupt them every single time. It's a miracle they find time to themselves.





	the right time for the waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this took so long I actually didn't think I'd manage to finish it, but hey here it is!

There’s a tiny whimpering boy in a dark alley in Cassian’s dreams. Dirty, snotty, and exhausted, the child laid in between two huge trash boxes, bigger than him, in hopes of them shielding him from the harsh cold rain. To no avail. Still, the boy laid there shivering and praying. No, not praying. He did not know how to pray except for the mumblings he would hear coming from his grandmother’s room that he imitated. The old lady would pray whenever the winds whipped a little too harshly. The winds in Fest were always harsh, but there were harsher nights, and their house sometimes gave in to the violence. His grandmother used to pray for its strength to last through the night. The boy in Cassian’s dreams would repeat those mumblings.

His face hurt, and something must be broken in his chest because it also hurt to breathe. Bakers in Tatooine had hard fists and violent words. But his stomach hurt more – desperation clawed in his belly like a beast, and a child can only do so much to quell it.

The city continued to grumble around him, ignoring him as he tried to ignore it, too.

The piece of bread in his pocket was soggy, but it was enough. It had to be. He fished it out, but as he put it in his mouth, a hand grabbed his wrist. He looked up to blue eyes, dark and dangerous in the dimness of the alley, blond hair matted in the rain – reminded him of Fest’s winds.

“You want to get a better meal than that, kid?” the man asked. His voice sounded heavy, harsh. _Winds in Fest_. The boy nodded.

The Rebellion has secrets. He was one of them, he was Draven’s.

Six was not old enough to even be in the Rebellion, but children were inconspicuous and Draven is smart. Cassian looked like a lost little child, hungry and dumb and harmless. Part of that was true, but he was also the youngest spy in the Rebellion’s history, an excellent ear, a masterful pickpocket, and an exemplary actor. It took him another six years to earn a place in the _real_ world, but even then he was still too young. Draven had some strings to pull.

He still remembers fists and stones and an acidic stomach as nightmares he would sometimes wake up to, clutching his middle, gasping and shivering. He was always quiet when he wakes up, out of necessity – his breaths silent and shaky, his hands tight in his shirt. He was always quiet.

“Hey.”

A voice brings him back out from slumber, gentle and soft amidst the steady whirring of – _something_ in the air of… _somewhere_. He opens his eyes and turns his head, a dark silhouette blurry until it’s not, sitting on a chair beside his bed. It’s Jyn. She’s here, her hands are in his hair, and she’s so close. He does not register the pain until a few seconds later, somewhere in his side, somewhere in his left leg, and his whole head. The whirring comes from the ceiling fan, he absently notes.

“It was just a dream,” she tells him, and he believes her, even when most of his body doesn’t want to. He slowly recognizes the whirring as the vents in the ceiling, steady and quiet.

Everything comes rushing back to him, unlike the other times before when he knew _exactly_ what had happened. He must have gotten hit so badly. There was a tiny faction of Imperial sympathizers in this supposedly smooth recon mission, they were running for cover, he pushed Jyn to a sharp left, and he was supposed to follow but –

Three blaster shots and he was on the ground.

And then here.

It takes him a lot of effort but he manages to speak. “Are you alright?”

She smiles at him in the dark, almost disbelieving, and shakes her head at him. He doesn’t understand, but he likes her smile. “I’m fine, Cassian. You should rest.”

“How long was I out?”

“Half a day,” she replies, fingers carding carefully in his hair. It feels good. His eyes flutter closed on their own, and he feels his breath escape his parted lips.

“I think I’ve rested enough.”

She smiles again, but now tries to hide it with a duck of her chin. He likes this one, too. “You can never rest _enough_ and you and I both know that.”

He smiles too, despite the pain. “We still need to go back to base, inform them at least –

“I already had Kay contact Hoth,” she interrupts, leaning closer, laying her head next to his on the tiny pillow. “They know what happened. We’re allowed two days of rest in this godforsaken planet while you’re still bedridden –

“I can walk,” he tries.

“No, you can’t.” He fails.

Her eyes are steady on his and his heart fails a beat or two, but he recovers and nods. “Where are we?”

“A friend’s place,” she says. “She said we can have this room to ourselves until you’re well enough to travel.”

The prospect of having a room to just him and Jyn feels like a can of worms that’s been sitting at the back of a cupboard for so long, a whole universe-wide of things he’s unprepared to acknowledge – like the way it makes him feel when she’s this close to him, next to him on this pillow. Her neck must he hurting in this angle, but she stays in it just to be near and it makes his heart do funny things. No one has ever done something like this for him.

“That’s good,” he replies, voice lower and rougher.

Her eyes scan his face, lingers on his mouth, but she never draws any nearer, just gives him a small nod.

Sometime in the night, he shifts and she joins him on the narrow bed, careful with his injuries. When he wakes up the next morning, his head feels clouded, but he can feel something small and sharp pressing into the center of his back, an arm slung around his waist just above his wound, and soft breathing against the back of his neck.

She must have been awake for longer than he has because her arm retreats and he’s turning to face her, the loss of her heat stealing his breath. “Hi,” he says when he finds himself face to face with her sleepy eyes.

She crinkles her nose. “Your breath stinks.”

He blows a puff on her and she shoves his chest, laughing. She buries her face in his chest still shaking with little giggles, a rare feat that he’s only heard when she’s drunk or delirious – none of which she is right now. Something about this makes him think about life after the Rebellion. When rebelling isn’t necessary anymore, when saying good bye to the only life he’s known is a relief rather than an inevitable death.

Before Jyn Erso, he didn’t have the time to think of a life that goes past a certain age. He kept thinking sometime the next year, he’d be rotting in a ditch or something. He always knew life for someone like him doesn’t do very well after a certain point. He didn’t think he deserved to imagine a life after the Rebellion.

He still doesn’t think so, but he’s still here, fighting tooth and nail to live because… well, she’ll always be waiting for him to come home just as he’ll always be waiting for her to do the same every time they get sent somewhere for the cause, and he can’t die knowing she’s waiting for nothing.

All of these, and he still doesn’t know exactly what they are. Or if he should be thinking they’re _something_.

She lifts her head and her eyes dip down to his mouth, her hand bunching at the fabric of his thin shirt, nails digging into his skin, making him shiver. His eyes flutter at the proximity, torn between looking in her eyes and her lips – when there’s shuffling at the doorway.

“There you are.”

 _Of course_. Kaytoo stands from across the hall, looking, for all a droid can appear, like he disapproves of all of their life choices.

The whirring of their mechanical friend as he crosses the threshold springs Jyn away from him, a ready-made scowl already on her face.

“I have been looking all over for you, Jyn Erso,” Kay says, approaching. Jyn sits up but doesn’t leave the bed.

“Word from Echo Base?” Cassian asks, trying to sit up as well. It proves to be too much and lies back down, Jyn shoots him an exasperated eye roll.

“Cassian, Shara Bey and Kes Dameron send their well wishes,” says Kay, and then turns his attention back to Jyn. “Senator Mothma is arranging for transport to arrive earlier.”

“That’s good,” she says, squeezing Cassian’s hand before she stands.

He mourns the loss of her in his bed, but doesn’t let it show, his chest tingling with something unrecognizable. She attends to something outside the room, followed by Kaytoo and for once, he slips back into slumber without worry.

Hoth can do without them for a while.

*

He’s finishing the bowl of soup Krasha, Jyn’s friend, had given him when Jyn opens the door, dust clinging to her skin and her boots. She just came from a supply run with Kay and she looks tired. Kay can do that to a simple supply run, he knows. Still, Cassian has come across a rather interesting information while she was gone and it cannot wait.

She’s taking off her scarf and smiling at him, busying herself with dusting off her shoulders when he pops the question: “Did you tell Krasha that we’re engaged?”

Her smile drops and it’s enough confirmation so he pushes through, fighting to hide his smirk. Years of spy experience trained him better than this. “Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“I was,” she replies, not meeting his eyes, voice definitely higher. “She apparently beat me to it.”

“Why?”

She’s clearly fidgeting and it amuses Cassian. Jyn rarely fidgets, she just glares and pouts, and Cassian admires her for it, so it’s even more precious to see her in this state. He didn’t know Jyn Erso fidgets.

“You were wounded badly,” she says, her eyes finally lifting to meet his. There’s the Jyn he knows, defiant and headstrong. He couldn’t bite back this grin even if he tried. “Krasha is not as trusting to people other than her friends and it was the logical thing to do. The Imperial droid was suspicious enough.”

Cassian chuckles. She shoots him a look and continues.

“She doesn’t take nicely to anyone fighting this war. I told her you were hit by an Imperial truck while we were transporting U-wing parts. That’s the story, stick with it.”

“She thinks we’re engaged smugglers?”

“Yes,” she nods, sitting at the edge of the bed and unlacing her boots.

Almost a year after the events on Scarif and she’s still the enigma that she was as the first moment they met. Bright eyes in the middle of a dark room, skin neon blue and green as the holo being projected on the table. This time, when she looks up at him, it’s with an exasperated huff and a light shove on his shoulders.

“You better not blow this cover for us, Cassian, I mean it,” she murmurs, settling next to him on the narrow bed.

He places the bowl atop the nightstand and shifts to look at her, figure lounging like she’s on vacation, hands behind her head, expression lazy and defiant and so radiant he can’t feel anything in his chest but warmth at the ease of their proximity.

“Why does it feel like you’re the commanding officer,” he deadpans, but his lips are upturned at the corners.

“I might just be,” she shrugs.

She looks at him for a long time, and then her eyes soften. “Are you feeling better?”

Cassian assesses himself again, the same thing he’s been doing while she was gone. He feels nothing wrong now, his leg still aches with remnants of the blaster burn, but his side feels fine. “Better,” he repeats. “I think I grew roots in this bed while you were gone.”

“You could have gone out of the room, at least,” she says, plopping down on the stiff mattress. Her hair pans around her head like a halo and she looks beautiful, even when she pillows her head with her arms, crosses her still-booted feet (although unlaced – like she found it too much to take off or just trying to annoy him), and frowns at him. She’s still _beautiful_.

Spies don’t get to see beauty that often.

“I wanted to be here when you get back,” he says.

He doesn’t need to look back at her to know that her eyes had averted, or that she’s playing with the hems of the unmade blanket.

Cassian doesn’t know why he even says these things, except that they’re true, and sometimes they come out unbidden – whether to surprise the kriff out of her or just to be honest with her. Either way, he smiles because it always catches her off guard, and Jyn prides on always being aware. It’s nice to see a crack in that façade.

When he does look back at her face only does he notice the small leaves sticking out of her hair and the annoyed expression she wears.

“Did the supply run happen to require rolling in the grass?”

She laughs but it sounds sarcastic. His smirk widens. “No. _Your_ droid just decided to take a _shortcut_ through a thick canopy of trees.”

He leans over her, rests his weight on one of his elbows, and begins to pluck leaves out of her hair. “It’s not like you to follow orders, much less from Kaytoo.”

She lets him fuss over her even when she’s glaring. “Does it count as following when he’s maneuvering the ‘speeder and I can’t do anything about it?”

His smile is so wide it hurts his cheeks, imagining what must have transpired from there to here. It always amused him whenever Kaytoo dedicated his time to irking Jyn under the guise of making an opinion. They both know it’s nothing more than that.

It’s maybe that thought that distracts him because he doesn’t realize Jyn’s not scowling anymore, nor smiling, at him. She’s… looking at him, eyes wide and dazed, and his hand freezes at her hair.

It hits him just how close they are, their bodies parallel and touching and _so_ close – then his heart starts to race.

It takes him another second to note that her breaths are coming out in measured huffs, like she’s controlling them, like she’s _aware_ of them. There’s a blush high on her cheeks, and a tremble in her lower lip. He wants to catch that lip between his own, suck on it, listen to the noise she might make –

“Engaged smugglers, right?” he asks, voice rough and low. He inches forward.

She lifts her hand and threads her fingers through his hair, seemingly unconsciously. He catches a groan in his chest before it gets out, but he thinks she felt it. “Yes,” she breathes, nose skimming his cheek.

He tips her chin up with a finger, her lips parting to –

There’s a rustle, something soft but heavy dropping on the floor, and Cassian and Jyn break apart, both sets of eyes darting towards the entryway.

“Oh!” Krasha gasps. “Force, Jyn. I am so sorry to interrupt, I just – “

She bends to retrieve the blankets from the floor, placing them on the nightstand with a hurried wave at the two of them. “Here are some blankets, tonight’s a snowy night.”

“Thanks, Krash,” Jyn says, clears her throat. “For the hospitality. I owe you.”

“Oh please,” she says, a teasing smile wrinkling her three eyes. “Just find a way to stay warm tonight.”

She exits, and whatever was holding the room tense dissipates into the air. The moment is gone, Cassian notes, as Jyn collects the blankets and tosses it to his chest. “Better bundle up, Captain.”

*

Heavy winds rattle the window and Cassian snickers. “You did not think this through, did you?”

Jyn, who is shivering a couple of inches from his face, glares at him even though she’s having troubles finding his eyes in the dark. “S-shut up,” she admonishes, and the rage is honestly lost between her chattering teeth. He smiles and gathers her closer to his chest.

“You somehow didn’t think they would offer two beds to an engaged couple,” he murmurs along her hair, feeling her shudder run down her spine.

She mumbles something incoherent against his chest.

“What?”

“I s-said you’re warm,” she forces out. “’s fine.”

She moves, tangles their legs together, bands her free arm along his back and sighs out relief. He waits until her breaths even out, and then he sleeps himself.

When he wakes, it’s still dark, and his eyelids are stuck shut in restless rest. He lets his heart settle.

The nightmare behind his eyelids dissolve, and his breathing becomes deep. And then he feels something warm against his cheek. When he opens his eyes, it’s to Jyn leaning down, her brows furrowed in concern. Warmth starts to trickle down his chest.

“Hey,” she rasps, so close. “You were… you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “You were choking back your screams.” Her fingers tangle in his hair, soothing against the side of his head, and he sighs. He _loves_ her, and she doesn’t know it yet, but he hopes to the Force that she feels it. “What was it?”

He swallows the lump in his throat against the strong emotion that took hold of his neck. No one has ever asked because no one has ever stayed long enough to hear it from him.

Everyone has nightmares, that’s just the truth amongst soldiers and spies. He always thought his were no different than the others. He’s sure Jyn has them, too.

“Cassian,” she whispers. “You can tell me.”

He closes his eyes. “Winds in Fest.”

The outside is calm now, signs of the morning in this planet. There’s still no sun, but the early workers are awake and murmuring quietly. He feels unworthy of such peace.

“They destroy homes. Ours wasn’t the strongest, and my father used to wake early to repair the roof. My siblings and I would race outside to help him and I – I was the youngest. My sister, Isobel, she would have liked you. You both have strong hands.”

She smiles, her thumb strokes under his eye, and he opens them to meet hers. “It’s different every time,” he confesses. “Sometimes it’s the dark alley, sometimes it’s when they burned our house down with my grandmother inside. Other times, it’s my father in the rally. Falling in front of me. You don’t – you don’t wanna hear the rest…”

“Cassian,” she says into the cold. “It’s okay.”

He holds onto her wrist and presses the slightest of kisses to her palm. “Sometimes it’s you. I was too late tonight. Just as I had my hand at the opening, I heard the blaster go off, and you… I climbed and I saw the man in white towering over you – I gunned him down but you –

She leans over and lets her lips skim his forehead.

He gives a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry, Jyn.”

“You don’t need to apologize, you saved me. Over and over, even after Scarif.”

His breathing shallows – he knows the signs of a panic attack before it settles, but Jyn is there, warm and close and so soft against the rigidness of his body. He wants to cry, or his eyes do, but it doesn’t happen. He lies there in her embrace, trying to breathe as she murmurs soft nonsense to his forehead. And he _wants, wants, wants_ so much the things she would give him, wants to be what she needs him to be but –

A small voice, so much like the boy in his dreams, tells him it’s not enough. He is not enough. Jyn is so good, too good. Angry and bright and radiant, with her heart set in the right – and he’s this dark cloud, a signal of impending doom, soul thrown away for the sake of the Rebellion. And he wants so much to go so far away that she doesn’t ever see him again, as much as he wants to melt into her embrace and let her see his demons. Someday, he’s got to make a decision. He hopes it’s something that makes her happy.

“Hey,” she whispers, voice shaky. “What are you thinking about?”

“This,” he answers honestly.

“What about this?”

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he replies.

She scoffs, quiet but with a humor that’s testing its ground. “As if I was really asleep. It’s too cold.”

They are silent for a little while, save for the whirring of the droids outside the room. He counts a couple of astromechs whirling around, and a 2-1B, based on engine sounds. And then she speaks.

“Besides, this is more comfortable. You’re like a heater.”

“Am I now?” he sounds amused, much to his own amusement.

She slides down the bed so that they’re face to face. The light outside casts a harsh shadow across her face, but her eyes are wide and mirthful. “Yeah,” she nods. “I like you better when you can’t move around much.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Oh really?”

Cassian doesn’t know what came over him but he’s suddenly moving, pushing at her shoulders until she’s on her back, pinning her with his thighs on either side of her torso, and she makes this soft sound of surprise. It makes heat shoot down his spine so fast it nearly dizzies him, her eyes wide and bright, question in her gaze. It’s so good – she’s so good, it terrifies him.

And then she laughs, shaking under his weight. He fights to keep a stern face, but he fails. His smile hurts his cheeks.

“How you like me now, Erso?”

She smirks, shifts – and suddenly, he’s reminded of just how _close_ they are, hips practically grinding. Her eyes are heated, dark, and blown. He swallows the grunt that tried to escape.

“Better, actually,” she murmurs as her hand sifts through his hair, anchoring there with her nails scraping his skin. A quiet moan escapes his lips, his smile dropping.

He’s warm now, beautifully so, and he wants to _kiss_ her so much, her breath quick and hot on his lips. She seems to feel the same, lifting her chin with a defiance so much like her whole persona. A strange surge of pride takes over him.

“Cassian,” she whispers, eyes on his mouth.

“Yes?”

“Please.”

He almost wants to laugh, make it difficult for her, but their bodies are pressed together and the heat is consuming his thoughts.

He leans forward, noses skimming. A breath escapes her, tongue wetting her lips, their foreheads touching –

A mechanical whir too close to the room to be anything but Kaytoo destroys the moment. A second later, there’s a loud bang on the door.

“Cassian.” Another knock. “Jyn.”

Jyn sighs, and Cassian relaxes into her embrace. Sure, there’s still the heat and his arousal pressing into her, but the moment is gone. _Kriffing droid_.

Kaytoo opens the door and Cassian drops onto the space next to Jyn, no longer hovering over her, but still touching.

“You don’t seem to need the wake up call,” the droid notes, rather deadpanned. “The transport shuttle back to base is here. You have three minutes to gather and be up and about.”

He then disappears back into the hallway.

Jyn sits up with another sigh, and he regrets taking his time now.

“I gotta see Krasha before we leave,” she says. And then she looks back at him over her shoulders, eyes still hooded, a teasing smile on her lips. He wants to kiss it off her, make her feel his regret, but there are things abound. “You have to finish what you started.”

And then she’s off the bed, out of the door, and he’s alone again. Heart racing. The ceiling spins a little, but it’s okay. He’s okay.

*

Cassian, Jyn figured early on after Scarif, can be a charming bloke when he wants to be. It comes as part of being a spy, he had said once, a sly smile on his face.

So when she finds him sitting on her bunk bed after her debrief with Draven a few hours after landing, she does the math in her head. It was a too short trip to the medbay. She wonders briefly who he charmed to get out _much_ earlier than intended.

But there he sits, head bowed down in deep concentration that only snapped to attention when she entered. She gives him a smile, and he returns it, something unspoken passing between them in the soft dimness of her quarters.

It’s not much, her given quarters. It’s small, with a tiny window on the wall where her bed is pressed to, and a smaller ‘fresher the size of a cabinet. It looks smaller with Cassian on her bed, but it feels warmer. _She_ feels warmer.

“That was quick,” she notes absently as she tries to do something other than stare at him – because if she does, it will only bring her back to a few hours ago, to when she’s pressed against him so close their breaths mingle in the space between them. It feels dangerous being alone with him now, but headier. A precipice she wants to tip over.

“I may have made a few promises that I may or may not break,” she hears him say as he stands from the bed, cautious steps approaching her.

“To the head nurse?”

“Helsham,” he agrees.

“Yes, her. She will hunt you down for that bacta treatment once she realizes,” Jyn says, and Cassian is at her back now as she reaches from atop her cabinet. His presence is too heavy to ignore, but she tries her best.

“I’m aware,” he says quietly now, the rumbles of his voice resonating against her back. It sends shivers down her spine, and she bites her lip when it starts to tremble.

Cassian does this to her. When he’s near, he gives her a small smile, something that makes her chest ache. He’s done so much for so many people, things he hates himself for, and gets no recognition for it. His only reward is a mission after the previous one, signs that he’s still useful for the Rebellion. And it breaks her heart a little when she finds him in his room and she sits beside him, not touching, not reaching out – and he’s not speaking. Just shaking his head, like he’s fighting off a formless thought in his head.

She would wait for him to reach for her hand and would squeeze until his nightmares subside.

When he gives her that small smile, it makes her think she can stop the galaxy from tormenting him for a while. She can do that, and he will let her.

He does that to her – make her feel like she’s allowed to see parts of him that no one else has ever seen. It traps her breath in her throat, makes her heart constrict painfully.

But now.

It’s a different pain.

When she turns around to finally meet his gaze head on, his eyes are dark, his breath is controlled, and his lips parted on a statement that comes out as a hiss. He can’t keep his eyes from her mouth and it sends heat down her belly, and she finds herself biting her lower lip again.

His hand slides up to touch her face, thumb coming up on her chin to pull her lip from between her teeth.

“Don’t do that,” he rasps, voice heavy with need. He’s _so_ close, eyes half-mast and wanting.

“Why?”

“You’re making this harder for me.”

“Am I now?”

But he doesn’t rise up to that bait, instead kissing her _finally_. He makes this hungry sound at the back of his throat, banding his arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him, as if all this time has been leading up to this. She feels the growl in his chest reverberate straight through to her core, and she moans when she feels her back hit the cabinet.

“Cassian,” she whispers against his lips as he nips at her chin.

He groans at the sound of his name, grinding against her that she sees stars. He continues to torment her neck with biting kisses, making it hard to concentrate. When she threads her fingers through his soft hair and tugs, he moans. It _turns_ him on when she does that, it feels like a small victory to Jyn. But she has to make him stop, he _needs_ to know.

She tugs again, gasps his name out, and he unlatches his lips from her jaw – eyes wild and breathing hard. But there’s regret in them, too.

“I’m sorry,” he says when he finds his voice. He looks so broken, and she aches to assure him.

She swallows and shakes her head. “Don’t be.”

“What is it?”

Her fingers scratches down his scalp, thumb coming up to his cheek, stroking until he relaxes. “You need to know, Cassian.”

“Anything,” he breathes, forehead coming to rest on hers. “Jyn, anything.”

She wants to crumple into dust in that moment, the way he said her name, reverent and quiet. Like it’s the one thing he will remember even when he loses his memory. The way he caresses the skin of her waist where her shirt has ridden up, reassuring and _loving_. Force, he needs to know.

“Cassian,” she says again. “Cassian, I love you.”

He lifts his head at that, fingers digging just a bit in her skin, enough that it snaps her to the moment. His eyes are searching hers for something – a lie, something else, she doesn’t know, but she keeps his gaze.

The last time she said those words were the very same day her parents were taken from her by the man in white. Saw never told her this, and she never told him. Not even those who came close to her. She has always been sure about things like this – like the way she loves Bodhi, and Chirrut, and Baze. And even Kaytoo. She will probably utter these words to them, but they will never sound like this when it’s in the heated space between her and Cassian.

He opens his mouth, and then closes it again, as if deciding on words. And then he says, “Are you sure?”

It makes Jyn laugh, because for all that he is the best spy in the Rebellion, this is the best he can come up with. “I – of course, Cassian, of course. I have been, for a while now.”

And then something amazing happens.

He smiles.

He always smiles at her, but this one is huge and bright, crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he looks so handsome in it that Jyn feels weak in the knees just from this. He dives right in again, kissing her deep and hungry, and she can’t help the small breathy moan she lets out.

“I love you,” he murmurs again and again between kisses as he skims her thighs, tugging so that he can lift her. It is evident in his voice, the way the words tilt in his tongue, that they are something he hasn’t said in a long time. Her heart skips at the familiarity of it.

She wraps her legs around his waist, settling on his crotch. She feels him hard against her core, grinding against her for friction. She tightens her legs around him.

It doesn’t take long until he’s turning them around and dropping her onto the mattress, knocking the air out of her lungs.

He stands there at the foot of her bed, staring.

“What?”

“Jyn,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful.”

She feels the blush on her skin before she could fight it, and suddenly he’s on her, kissing her again and then down her throat to her collarbones, nipping at the skin. She arches towards his lips until he stops at the fullest stretch of the neckline of her shirt. She looks down at him, and he looks up at her, eyes seeking permission. When she nods, he rises up to kiss her again before tugging her shirt up and off of her.

He kisses down her chest, sucking on the skin atop her breasts, fingers skimming the band until her impatience got the best of her. She reaches around herself, flicks the hooks, and tosses the breastband away.

His sharp intake of breath renders her speechless. No one has ever seen her like this and had that reaction. It was mostly just fumbling in the dark, quick and detached.

“Jyn,” he brands on her chest, kissing between her breasts. “You – you have no idea.”

“What?”

She’s carding her fingers in his hair when he looks up, eyes soft and reverent. It takes her breath away again – this man does this to her far too often, and he has to be aware of it in some way.

His other hand travels lower, lower still until his fingers are skimming the waistband of her underwear. “May I?” he rasps against her throat.

She can only nod, eyes falling shut as his fingers find her wetness. She clenches on nothing in anticipation.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes, as he strokes her in her underwear. “I’ve always wondered if you knew that I always think of you like this.” Jyn gasps at the roughness of his voice, a thrill running under her skin as she comes to a realization. Cassian talks during sex. It makes her heart gallop.

“Cassian, please,” she begs. The ache in her is becoming sharper with every light caress. He smirks and kisses her as he slips a finger in. Jyn groans.

He kisses up her ear and chuckles. “So warm, is this how you’ll feel around me?”

“Come see for yourself,” she says, breathless.

The growl in his chest reverberates through her skin. He wastes no time flicking the button on her trousers, pulling them down until they catch on her boots. He pulls those off as well, and then tosses the garments somewhere.

She grabs at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. “You’re lagging behind, Captain,” she says, tugging at his shirt. His eyes glaze over with desire, and he pulls away, pulls his shirt off him. When he comes back to her, it’s skin to skin, and she shivers.

They kiss again, deep and hot.

“I want to taste you, Jyn,” he says, and then he’s between her legs nipping at the skin of her thighs. She trembles. “Please,” he whispers.

“Yes.”

And then he’s licking at her with fervor, tongue circling her clit, sucking delicately.

Jyn feels the rise inside her, with her breaths getting shorter, her voice getting rougher as she whispers his name. He groans against her like this is something that turns him on, and it just hikes her up further.

When he curls his fingers up to _that_ spot, she tugs at his hair and he stops. She whimpers, disappointment flooding her chest, but she has an agenda –

“Cassian, come up here,” she murmurs, and he obeys.

When he comes back up, he gives her this shy smile, his eyes wide with wonder even with his mouth slick with her, as if he hadn’t just talked dirty into her ear just minutes ago. It is so contrasting, and yet she _knows_ in her heart that she feels the same. She gives him a reassuring kiss, lingering and quiet, and he settles between her legs, his hardened length brushing up her entrance.

He gasps. “Jyn.”

“I know,” she says, fingers carding through his sweat slick hair.

He exhales shakily against her forehead, sinking into her in one fluid motion until he’s buried to the hilt.

He doesn’t move, probably waiting for her to adjust, but she’s impatient, moving her hips against his until he gets the message and thrusts. He sets a slow and delicious rhythm, Jyn’s lungs working hard to breathe.

She’s starting to shake, the peak she has been chasing before coming back full force as he kisses her neck, behind her ear, mouthing at her jaw. She feels him losing control, too, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic by the second, that when he slows down, she knows he’s trying to last longer for her.

Jyn pushes him until he’s on his back, her sinking on his cock once again. He lets a punched out groan sound through the dimness, his hands going immediately to her hips, fingers digging into her skin. She moans at the feeling.

“Jyn,” he says, voice wavering between a warning and amusement. She shoots him a smirk.

“No more of that _kriffing_ self-sacrifice,” she says, rising up and down – his eyes flutter closed, neck arching beautifully, as he lets out an unrestrained, almost pained moan.

This scene alone can bring Jyn to the brink, but it’s Cassian – she thinks he deserves to let go.

Her movements meet his uncontrolled little thrusts, and Jyn smiles even when she feels the painful edge of release. She drives faster, but he seems unrelenting – presses two fingers against her clit, circling and massaging until she’s gasping loudly.

His sounds match hers, and when she comes, she feels him groan quietly, also hitting the brink with her.

She collapses against his chest, rising on his chest with his heavy breathing. And then she feels fingers in her hair, gently massaging her scalp.

He lets out a breathless laugh. “Helsham will kill me.”

She chuckles and rolls over, still sprawled on top of him, but letting him breathe easily. “Not my fault,” she says.

Cassian looks down on her, gives her a sleepy grin, and then a tired kiss on the lips, and then on the forehead.

Jyn waits until his breathing evens out, and then lets herself think this is somewhere she’s willing to stay, as long as he wants her here.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me [here](http://hooksandheroics.tumblr.com) or leave a comment and a kudos 
> 
> para hindi naman ako papansin


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